


Sail

by TheRebelDread



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Angst, First Time, Hero Worship, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 19:52:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/802563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRebelDread/pseuds/TheRebelDread
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kadar always admired Altair. But Altair hardly even noticed Malik's brat of a little brother. Until one night, he did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sail

Kadar always admired Altair. His skills, his stealth, the way he moved. Even his arrogant, holier-than-thou attitude. Altair was everything he wanted to be. The master assassin. But his feelings weren't always welcomed.

When they were young, Kadar was nothing more than a nuisance to Altair. Malik's annoying little brother who always followed him around. The younger boy would spend long afternoons in the courtyard watching him spar, until the sun disappeared behind the fortress and the sky turned a light shade of purple. That's when Altair would sheathe his dagger and pull back his hood, a sheen of sweat making his skin glisten under the fading sunlight. Then he'd throw an arm around Malik and drag him into town, where the two of them would spend the rest of the evening drinking warm wine at the tavern. A few times, Kadar tried to tag along. He'd drift behind them, hoping they might not notice he was there. But Altair would glance over his shoulder and dismiss him with a golden stare. _"Get lost, kid."_ And Kadar would. Not because he was obligated to do as he was told, but because it was Altair.

But then something changed. It was early on the morning after Kadar's seventeenth birthday – or perhaps it was really late that night – and Kadar was alone in the courtyard. Not one person had remembered his birthday, not even his brother; who had been too busy sparring and studying to even acknowledge him. Kadar was feeling sorry for himself, while drinking from a flagon of stale wine and gazing up at the clear night sky, when the shuffling of boots startled him. He jumped to his feet and spun around, swaying slightly from the warm buzz of alcohol in his system. The master assassin was leaning against the stone wall, with his hood down and a lazy smirk on his lips.

"Altair." Kadar all but choked. His heart was racing, and it took a moment to realise his hand was at his blade. His cheeks flushed in embarrassment and he quickly began fidgeting to make his fingers look busy. "Sorry, I was....umm...." but his voice trailed off, and Altair's smirk merely grew.

“What are you doing out here?” He slurred, though there was a hint of amusement in his tone as he observed the blush on Kadar's cheeks. "Celebrating alone?" He was drunk. Kadar could smell the alcohol on his breath. Malik had come back hours ago; claiming he was too tired to put up with the drunken slobs in town. But the eagle of Masyaf had stayed out drinking Italian wine on someone else's tab.

 

It took Kadar a minute to realise what he'd said. "..What?"

Altair lazily pushed away from the wall and took the jug of wine from Kadar's loose grip. "It's your birthday, isn't it?"

He tilted his head back and took a long pull. Kadar found it difficult to form words with his mouth hanging open, stuttering on syllables as he watched Altair drain the last of the stale wine. Altair never acknowledged his birthday. Not once in seventeen years. As far as Kadar knew, he didn't even know when his birthday was. "Uh...."

Altair grimaced and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. _"Ya ilahi_ [Oh my God] _,_ this is awful. Where did you get it?"

Kadar averted his eyes and worried at his lower lip. "It belonged to Abbas. I took it from his bag while the two of you were sparring this afternoon."

"....You took this from Abbas?"

Kadar nodded. There was a long pause, and he held his breath until he thought he might turn blue.

Altair's smirk spread into a satisfied grin, and there was a gleam in his golden eyes. "Nice job, kid."

 

Was that approval? _Pride_ even? Kadar felt his face heat up and rubbed a nervous hand over the back of his neck. As the two stood in silence, Kadar felt something change between them. A shift in the cool night breeze that kissed his skin. Even the stars seemed to glow a little brighter. But not quite as bright as those golden eyes: eyes that weren't just watching and waiting for him to 'get lost', they were looking _at_ him. For the first time, Altair was _seeing_ Kadar.

It was in that moment – when Altair remembered his birthday and Kadar forgot how to breathe – that he realised it wasn't just admiration anymore. It was an obsession. And somehow, Altair knew it.

 

He took one last sip of the bitter tasting wine before tossing the empty flagon aside, and his eyes swept casually over Kadar's thin frame. "But....you're not a kid anymore, are you?" There was a shift in his voice too. An octave lower, like the rumble of a storm on the horizon, and Kadar shivered.

He tried to speak, but couldn't find his voice. Altair took two steps closer, and Kadar instinctively took two steps back, only to find himself pressed against the stone wall. All of a sudden Altair was right there, and the air felt too close, like a hand around his throat. The master assassin braced one arm above Kadar's head, the other by his hip, cornering him. With Altair's height towering over him, Kadar had never felt so small.

 

"You nervous?" Altair's voice sent a chill down Kadar's spine. He swallowed, his mouth dry. There was no point in lying. Altair could read him like an open book.

He nodded, and then, when he'd finally found his voice, "You make me nervous."

Altair's grin turned wolfish, white teeth gleaming in the moonlight. He looked almost predatory, and Kadar felt very much like the prey. "Wana la y'ed. _*_ [I won't bite]"

 

Kadar swallowed hard. It seemed as though the imaginary hand around his throat was constricting. Until he realised he wasn't imagining it at all. Altair's fingers splayed over his throat, thumb pressed against the hot throb of his pulse. Not squeezing, just the soft touch of calloused fingertips, and a warm rush spread through Kadar's body.

The boy's voice was soft when he spoke, Altair could feel the rumble of his words against his palm. "No. But perhaps you will devour my heart instead, and it shall never beat again."

Kadar felt like he wasn't in his own body. His tongue danced on its own accord, so that his words surprised even himself. As though Altair had him under some spell. Hypnotised by golden eyes and drunk on his breath: Kadar was Altair's, completely and wholly.

The master assassin grinned as he dipped his head into the curve of Kadar's neck. "How sweet would it taste?" It was a question that Kadar was in no shape to answer. Especially when Altair's lips brushed over his throat, and the flick of a hot tongue made his whole body shudder. "Would I want it all for myself?"

Kadar's voice trembled and so did his hands as they grasped feebly at Altair's robes. "There would be none left to share. You would swallow it whole, and there would be nothing but a hole in my chest."

 

Altair's mouth left a hot trail down his neck, back up to his jaw and dipped into his ear; where his words seemed to sear his skin. "If I ate your heart...." As he spoke, his hand slid from Kadar's throat to his chest, where he felt it hammer beneath his palm. Then suddenly Altair's mouth was so close to his that Kadar was afraid to breathe. "Would you taste the blood from my lips?"

Kadar's 'yes' came out as more of a moan, and Altair swallowed it.

 

It started with hot, open-mouthed kisses, until Altair licked into his mouth and Kadar was breathing him in like he was starving for air. Altair's fingers were in his hair, and the skin prickled at the back of his neck. His hands clutched at the master assassin's robes, twisted nervously at the fabric because he wanted them everywhere, but he was so afraid to touch him.

 

Altair's laugh was a low rumble against Kadar's lips. "I can feel your heart pounding."

Kadar made a noise in his throat that sounded a little like a hiccup. His cheeks flushed.

He could feel the master assassin's smirk. "I do make you nervous, huh?"

The younger assassin could only nod. Altair's lips found the skin behind his ear, a soft touch no more than the tickle of a feather. "Hal a’jabak?* [Do you like it?]"

 

Kadar whimpered. He pulled at Altair's hood to drag his mouth back to his. "Yes." He was feverish. Almost sick with want. Altair slid a knee between the boy's thighs, hot pressure right where he wanted it, and Kadar was weak. He felt no more shame, though he was sure it would return in the morning. He only wanted more. _OhGodpleasemore-_

He hadn't meant to say it aloud, but the low rumble of Altair's laugh told him that he had. But any embarrassment that might've returned was quickly forgotten when Altair pressed his hips into Kadar's. A fire in his belly consumed Kadar. He rolled his hips, riding the hard muscle between his thighs; Altair's hand at the small of his back and his tongue in his mouth. He didn't care that he was rutting against Al Mualim's favourite in the middle of the courtyard. He just wanted release. God, he _needed_ it.

Altair seemed to read his mind. He turned his attention to Kadar's belt, tugging it loose until he could slide a hand down the younger boy's pants. Kadar's eyes rolled back into his skull. He was suddenly hyper-aware of everything: every touch, every scent. The hard stone against his back, the cool breeze that kissed his heated skin. The smell of Italian wine on Altair's breath, and the callouses on his fingers that sent little shock waves through his body. Assassin hands. Hands that had taken life.

 

The little novice knew he wouldn't last. No one had ever touched him before – not like this – and certainly not anyone like Altair Ibn-La'Ahad. He was grinding into Altair's hand, fingers threading through his hair and breathing in his every exhale like there might be opium in his lungs. The liquid heat in his belly swelled, and Kadar reached instinctively for Atair's wrist. He didn't want him to stop – but God, maybe he did. He knew what was coming, and his heart raced at the prospect. But his body was crying out for it.

“Altair....”

The master assassin recognised the warning in his voice, the gleam in his eyes predatory and hungry. “Already?”

Kadar mewled. He tugged at Altair's robes and his back arched. _"Please.."_ He felt foolish; begging was a sign of weakness. But Kadar was no longer in control of his own mind. Altair controlled him. Altair _owned_ him. Every last part of him.

 

 

Kadar pleaded for more, but the boy's icy blue eyes cried louder than any voice Altair had ever heard. It felt almost like taking life; when he would watch the light leave his victims' eyes as they surrendered to death. It was submission. Acceptance. But this was different. Kadar was giving himself to Altair; _willingly._

It humbled him, and Altair wondered what it was like; to give oneself to someone that completely. To lose control. He pressed Kadar back against the wall, his lips a breath away from the boy's throat. Kadar was waiting for his permission; he would have done anything Altair asked of him. But the poor thing couldn't take much more.

 

"Come on then, pretty boy." His words kissed Kadar's neck, and that was enough. His muscles tensed just before he surrendered to release, with Altair's name like a prayer on his lips. It was beautiful, and somehow terrifying in its own right; that this – _novice_ – was able to do something Altair never could. Let go.

_What was it like?_

Kadar's body relaxed, and felt like soft clay in Altair's arms. “Maybe I'll be able to show you someday,” he said breathlessly, and a smile reached his eyes.

 

God, had he said that out loud?

 

It was even more terrifying that Kadar knew. He understood Altair on a level no one else did. Altair felt exposed, and suddenly he was drowning in Kadar's eyes like they were oceans. He pressed a kiss to the younger assassin's lips; soft and sweet, and tiny butterflies stirred in Kadar's belly.

“Happy birthday, kid.”

 

And in a breath of wind like the flutter of great wings, Altair was gone. But Kadar did not feel alone. The next evening, when the sun disappeared behind the mountains and Altair sheathed his dagger, Kadar quietly followed behind his brother and the master assassin as they made their way to the tavern. But only until Altair stopped, just long enough to dismiss him with a cold stare. “Get lost, kid.”

Kadar's heart sank as he watched them walk away. Maybe he was a fool. Maybe he never really mattered at all. But then, just as they passed through the fortress gates, Altair glanced over his shoulder, and winked. It was only a small gesture, but to Kadar, it felt as though the world had just begun turning in a whole new direction.

It felt like hope.

 

Only a few, short months later, Altair stood alone on the cliffs of Masyaf. Kadar was gone, and it was his fault. The boy was so young. He had so much to live for, so much left to do. Altair's life was meaningless.

As he looked down at the waves below, Altair vowed never to swim in the sea again; for drowning would be too bittersweet. Kadar's eyes were oceans, and his ships sunk in them. Kadar was the sea, and Altair was the sand that washed away.

He closed his eyes, and for the first time in his life, Altair prayed. "Do not punish him for my sins. I will answer for them when you call for me." His words were a whisper on the wind that carried them away like wisps of smoke. "Let him go home."

He remembered that night; what felt like yesterday and a lifetime ago all at once. The memory tugged at his heart. But there was something on the breeze that kissed his cheek; it carried the the cool mist from the waves and whispered in his ear. It told him to let go.

He smiled. As he mounted his horse for the long ride to Jerusalem, Altair took one last look back, and winked at the sea.

 

 

 

_In the summer_  
 _I stretch out on the shore_  
 _And think of you_  
 _Had I told the sea_  
 _What I felt for you,_  
 _It would have left its shores,_  
 _Its shells,_  
Its fish,  
 _And followed me._  
  
     -Nizar Qabbani


End file.
